Let Me Play
by Zarla
Summary: In an alternate universe, Zangulus and Vrumugun are roommates, both dedicated to one thing: the rave scene. However, when a certain longhaired blonde shows up, everything changes...Eventual shounenai. Part 3 Up!
1. Brisk & Vinylgroover - Rainfalldown

Let Me Play

(By "I swear ta god, I have no clue where this came from" Zarla)

(Note: I am not responsible fer any mental damage caused by this fic.)

~Author's Note~

There's a good reason why Zangulus acts da way he does, I'm not just bashin him or nothin. Da song is Let Me Play by Hyperactive from da Dancemania Happy Ravers soundtrack, appropriately enough. And if my desc isn't enough, here's pics of em...

http://64.176.89.88/images/Gourryraver.JPG

http://64.176.89.88/msp/VrumZangraver.JPG

_I can never face another day  
If there ain't no raver's groove to let me play  
I can never face another day, yeah  
If there ain't no raver's groove to let me play...  
_

The whole club was packed, wall to wall, bodies moving to the beat of music that one could feel through the floor, thudding through any kind of barrier one could think of, including that of flesh or cloth. It was the kind of deep noise that went directly into your body, bypassing your ears, going for your chest and making your heart follow along with its rhythm, the very blood in your body following the beat. The bass was pushed up possible as far as it could go, but then again, the volume of the songs playing was so loud that it was impossible to hear anyone unless they were shouting. Everyone there liked it that way, liked having the music so loud that it would truly take effort for someoe to come and talk to you, to have the music so loud that it was hard to think. 

The heat flowing from so many different bodies was intense, a wash of warmth which was part of the reason why so many people wore very little, if anything at all, while dancing amidst the crowds. It took a while to get used to that kind of atmosphere, the heat and the volume, but after experience one was able to filter it out, in a way, one's body just increasing its resistance, ignoring music, filtering it out, and coping with the heat in its own ways. Regulars were rarely bothered by things that would annoy and frustrate newcomers, especially for the twinkies who got upset at what the oppressive atmosphere did to their hair or clothes. They were unused to it and weren't prepared, and they payed the price, and it was rare to see a twinkie for more then one night, as one experience with the real club was enough to drive most of them away, even at the sake of their image.

Out amongst the crowd a few distinctive features could be seen, moving along with the flow. People with light hair stood out in particular, or those who had bleached and/or dyed their hair different colors. Almost any hair color was a viable option at this place, but the lighter colors automatically caught the eye. However, what attention the hair could not grab was seized and immediately throttled by the clothes and accessories that those among the crowd wore. One could sit back and stare for hours and still see something different with every person who went gyrating by, arms pumping, legs moving. Every person had added their own touches, trying to make themselves unique, and although at a glance the entire crowd was just one mass of people, those who made the effort truly did stand out. Multiple necklaces, bracelets, earrings, anklets, armlets, everything was game to be added in an effort to generate and garner more attention. Clips, hairties, shredded or torn clothing dyed various colors, all in various combinations. The entire place was a cornucopia of hues, all blending together into one indescribably vibrant multi-color amongst the people who had chosen to gather here. This entire atmosphere was enhanced by the multi-chromatic lights and lasers, flashing and moving in tune with the music, different colors in thousands of places at once, a barrage on the sensitive eyes of anyone who had not become accustomed to the entire scene.

Although he had not wanted to, Vrumugun had done just that.

At the moment he was sitting off to one side, which got him a few disapproving glances from people who were dancing. However, considering he had become something of a regular fixture at these kind of things, particularly at this club, he didn't get as many as he had before. And it wasn't as if he _didn't_ dance, he just wasn't dancing at the _moment_. The dancing he didn't mind. If Zangulus could drag himself away from everybody for just a few seconds to ask him, then he would go join him, but at the moment he was just sitting and watching.

He could feel the beat pounding in the back of his head. He had to admit, he did not mind the music. He actually kind of enjoyed the repetitive beat, the speed, the energy that it all seemed to carry, the occasional happy to eerie vocals. It appealed to him on some level, and he had taken to searching for some of the music on his own. 

That wasn't why he was here, however. The reason he felt so dissatisfied was that it wasn't his choice to be here. Although perhaps he may have gravitated to this scene on his own, although the probability was not likely, the sheer number of people did not appeal to him. He didn't like watching so many people around him, to have them look at him in askance as to why he wasn't with them. It bothered him on some level, but he knew that if he got up to join them, they would stop staring at him. All he had to do was actually go up and make the effort. He was making an excuse for himself, another reason why he would be dissatisfied with being here. He shouldn't have to make up an excuse to cover up the real reason. That wasn't why he was upset. He actually liked being with them, he actually probably would have enjoyed himself more...

If he had chosen to be here in the first place.

He leaned back, glancing at himself for a few moments, shaking his head as he remembered just what he looked like. He had never been very self-aware, often forgetting how he looked until someone's cruel or insensitive comments brought it back to his attention, and despite the odd articles of clothing he was wearing, he often wasn't even aware of himself.

On his bare chest rested a large, thick silver ankh, one of the few parts of his ensemble that he had chosen himself. He was wearing a thin black leather vest, which matched along with his pants, which were tighter then he personally would have liked. Zangulus had insisted, however, and in the end it was useful, considering that his legs weren't as warm as they may have been otherwise and they never hindered him, even when he was dancing. He didn't like the looks he got because of them, however. Although he normally wasn't self-conscious, he didn't like people staring at him, whether it was because they thought he looked weird or they thought he looked attractive. He just didn't trust being stared at, there were too many lies and complications that went behind their eyes.

His feet were covered with large, thick-soled boots, which surprisingly weren't that difficult to move around in. He had been careful in considering the size and weight of the boots so that they wouldn't impede him when he danced. Originally the question had been _if_ he would dance, but now the if was not even considered. There was no if, only when.

On his left shoulder a black cross had been drawn with marker, and a metallic armlet wrapped itself around his opposite bicep. Below the metallic band, but above his wrist a few inches, also drawn with black marker, was a swirl that barely met at the ends, and, unlike many present, his hands were unadorned, with neither ring nor glove nor bracelet. On his left forearm he had drawn a gaping wound with red and black markers, forever trapped in the act of bleeding. Around his neck was a leather spiked collar, and his head was covered by a black bandanna that he had no intention of taking off at any point in time for his own reasons.

He scratched for a moment at the corner of his eyes before forcing his hand away. He had forgotten about that...the corners of his eye now led up into a black swirl Zangulus had done with an eyeliner pencil, and underneath his right eye was a teardrop done with face paint. Although he had been wearing this kind of face makeup for a long time, he still felt slight itching near his eyes that he couldn't help but scratch at times. He wasn't sure as to the teardrop's status, considering how unreliable face paint could be, but he personally didn't care. How he looked had never really mattered to him, not even here, but this look had become so associated with him that he almost felt obligated to continue with it.

It had been his choice originally to lean more towards a goth look then the typical raver. Zangulus had originally tried to get him to follow his lead, but Vrumugun had refused. He never liked bright colors and he refused to wear them, finding them demeaning. Although he still wasn't happy with some parts of his attire that Zangulus would not allow him to change, he was overall pleased with the darker, more morbid look he had constructed or himself. He wasn't so goth as to be ostracized and the fact that he danced and danced enthusiastically helped. Also the fact he came with Zangulus, who dressed in a much more stereotypical raver fashion.

He sighed to himself, brushing some of his limp brown hair away from his odd icy eyes. Another thing that set him apart was that he did absolutely nothing with his hair, not dying it, decorating it, tying it back, or anything that would have brought it more attention. He knew as well as anyone else that his hair was boring, having no body or shine of its own. It was just his hair, and the rest of him was enough to get attention.

Sometimes he couldn't believe he allowed himself to be dragged here in this kind of fashion. When he thought back to who he normally was, or used to be before he became part of the scene, he never would have imagined that he would be here now, dressed as he was. But then again, he never imagined he would meet someone like Zangulus, and he never knew that someone like Zangulus could be just so persistent and so convincing. It was Zangulus' fault he was here, but in a way, he wasn't annoyed at all. This made him wonder if perhaps he was beginning to come out of his highly anti-social and emotionless shell, but he knew it would never be that easy. He had been coming here for some time, but the moment he left he reverted back to his normal self, keeping his face emotionless with his voice, keeping everything inside, from joy to sadness. But the fact that here, in certain circumstances, he could finally let some things go, was enough to make him wonder whether or not his shell was breaking. Or at least getting a door.

He looked back into the crowd, watching people go by, thousands of colors all at once, but he had learned to filter out enough so he wasn't overwhelmed. He noted a young man digging into a plush backpack, pulling out a bag of candy, handing it out to people he had never even met and would probably never see again. He danced close enough to pass by, and Vrumugun took the candy that was offered to him, giving the man a soft smile before he continued on his way, vanishing into the body of people moving all at once.

He stared at it. It was a lollipop, one of the kinds with gum in the center by the looks of it. He unwrapped it and stuck it in his mouth, watching other people go by. He wondered momentarily where Zangulus was, then rolled his eyes. There was no doubt where Zangulus was, the attention whore. He was in the middle of everything, dancing, moving, demanding attention, getting close to so many people while smiling that infuriatingly intriguing smile of his, capturing people's attention before they vanished again. He'd be in the center, moving to his own rhythm and style, black hair lit by the flashing lights. He'd be waiting, wanting to feel people watching, wanting to know he had them, wanting to know he was being watched and admired, forever wanting that attention, trying to get people to watch him, be with him, share with him the atmosphere. And here, it wasn't hard to find.

Vrumugun could feel it, he knew he could. The vibe that the rave was giving off. He knew it well, as was demonstrated by the man who had given him the candy without even knowing who he was. The general feeling of acceptance, of mutual love, of joy and happiness. The vibe that drew so many people back, including Zangulus.

He sighed, the lollipop kept between his teeth and cheek, letting the flavor trickle slowly down his throat. Blueberry. One of his favorite flavors actually, although he was almost positive that the man who gave it to him had no idea.

In a way, he himself also loved this kind of atmosphere, the mutual love and respect that seemed to emanate from everyone present. Through most of his life he had been alienated, which was what had caused him to build up his large, thick emotional wall, but here, that was unneccessary. Here he could have fun, here he could actually show emotion without any unpleasant repurcussions, almost as if it were a loving family he had never had. He loved the atmosphere, the loving kindness that allowed that man to give him candy, but more so then that, for him to take it trustingly, not suspecting any kind of harm, knowing it was a friendly gesture. There weren't enough simple, friendly gestures in the world, but here, that seemed to be everything. He gladly would have stayed here, come just to bask in the loving aura that seemed to be everywhere.

But he wasn't here because he chose to be here.

No, he was here to make sure Zangulus didn't do something stupid. To be able to drive him back when he wasn't able to. To babysit him "just in case". A duty he had never volunteered to take, and yet here he was.

Sometimes Zangulus drove him insane. He couldn't understand or tolerate sometimes the man's vanity, or need for attention, or the bizarre limits he would go to to get something he wanted. But other times, Zangulus could be understanding, fun-loving, and was able to get Vrumugun out of his shell.

For instance, he was able to get Vrumugun out into the scene, which was something no one else on earth possibly could have ever done. And how he had managed this miraculous feat was why he was with him. Why the two of them continued to spend time together, despite that attributes about the other that drove them crazy.

He gladly would have come if Zangulus just wanted him to have fun, just wanted him to come out sometimes. That was the reason he originally gave, but it soon became apparent that such a simple excuse was painfully transparent. Zangulus needed someone there to fall back on, someone there to be able to drive when he couldn't without question, and someone to watch his belongings.  
He would have come gladly if Zangulus had dragged him here with his happiness in mind. He never would feel these misgivings, regrets, or tinges of unhappiness if Zangulus had just wanted him to have fun, to share something with him.

But that was why he was unhappy.

He had been going to these raves for what seemed like ages now, and he had long ago decided that Zangulus could take care of himself. He continued to drive, but he no longer shadowed him through the club. He no longer went to check when he was gone longer then usual. 

However, he continued coming. He didn't exactly know why. Zangulus could drive himself if Vrumugun truly did not want to come. Perhaps the vibe had gotten to him too, and he just refused to admit to himself he enjoyed spending time here. He wouldn't put it past himself.

He leaned back, recognizing a familiar figure pushing their way through the dancers. No...he wasn't pushing...he was just sliding by, working their way into their dance rhythm for only a few moments then moving on. He knew who it was immediately just by how easily they blended with other people before continuing, and he sighed, biting down on the lollipop quickly, feeling and hearing it fracture underneath his teeth with a loud crack. It wasn't good to have something sticking out of your mouth when you were dancing, which was what he knew he would ask him to do. He continued to crunch on the sweet shards while Zangulus worked his way through the crowd to where he knew Vrumugun would be.

Vrumugun pulled the now bereft-of-candy stick out of his mouth and, not seeing any trash receptacle nearby, put it in his pocket for disposal later. He watched Zangulus finally extract himself fully from the crowd.

Zangulus always went to the extreme in trying to grab attention, covering his face with translucent sparkles, his eyes marked with dark blue eyeshadow. His black hair constantly covered his right eye, although this didn't seem to bother him, and it was kept back in a tight, wavy ponytail. If there was one thing he was proud of, it was his hair, and it showed in how it shone with health underneath the lights.

Around his neck he wore a thin cross with one curled tip, which rested on a broad, muscular chest covered with black mesh, which continued on down his arms, stopping at his wrists. He covered the mesh with a ripped and torn jean jacket, a safety pin attached at the bottom with a cord tied to it, the opposite end tied to a pacifier. His hands bore several plastic, multi-colored rings, and he was wearing a massive pair of jeans, so much so that they constantly sagged below his waistline, revealing his briefs. They stayed on his body somehow, although Vrumugun was never sure how, and underneath the massive folds of light blue cloth the toes of his sneakers could be seen, bright red. The constant nights of dancing and exertion had made Zangulus rather fit and muscular, him having been on the scene far longer then Vrumugun with much more energy and enthusiasiam, and he was a stark contrast to Vrumugun's thin, lanky, pale form.

He couldn't hear Zangulus' voice over the music, but he knew what he was asking. He lifted himself off the chair he was sitting on, watching Zangulus smirk, holding out one hand before disappearing back into the crowd. As if he knew he would follow him, which he would.

While Zangulus could merge and move through the crowd, Vrumugun was not so co-ordinated or skilled with large groups. Instead, he often managed to slide by someone while they weren't paying attention, always managing to find the moments of blank space before it was filled by another body. It had always been an ability of his, one he had used previously to avoid crowds, although now he used it to manage them. He followed Zangulus' progress on through the group of people, sure that he was again being lead to the center of the floor. Or the rough approximization of it.

Zangulus stopped, apparently having found the area he was looking for, and, without even checking to make sure Vrumugun was there, began dancing, moving his arms and legs in perfect time with the deep bassline. His hair followed him perfectly, and Vrumugun shook his head, unable to hide his admiration for Zangulus' skill. He had been doing this far longer then Vrumugun had, and he was able to dance far better then he could ever aspire to. His movements were graceful, perfect, in line with every sound, every chord that came from DJ. Vrumugun slid into place next to him, and began to dance himself.

He disliked other people on principle. He had known too many and had to deal with too many in his various jobs to ever believe that any person could not be infuriatingly stupid or rude. He knew enough about people to lose his faith in them.

However, when he was in this mass, this group of people all here for one reason, to enjoy the music and the vibe, he lost that cynicism, that sarcasm. In an ironic way, he felt as if he was alone, as if no one was watching him, because there was no one there except him, who was everyone. It was a transcendent experience, and he knew that had to be one of the reasons why he kept coming, why he couldn't keep himself away. He was here with these people, and he finally clicked into rhythm with them when his desire finally matched with theirs. He wanted to enjoy the music with the others, and there were no other motives, nothing else. The simplicity of it made him feel so unfettered, as if he dropped all the thoughts that had been bothering him. He was finally one with something, someone, and it was that acceptance that allowed him to dance, to overcome his hatred of people to move.

He wasn't skilled himself, but he had learned to dance by Zangulus' side, and he had learned everything he knew from him in the privacy of their apartment, although even though it was just the two of them, Vrumugun was often overcome with shyness and awkwardness. Zangulus had modified his moves to incorporate Vrumugun in some way, deciding the best practice would be there, in the rave, where the fear that Vrumugun subconsciously held of other people would not interfere, and here he was correct. Vrumugun truly shone on a dance floor, in the middle of everything, when he could forget. Vrumugun's moves were simplistic, but primal, raw, filled with the energy and joy of just being there. It was the motions of someone desperatly trying to express themselves, to expres things they constantly kept hidden, and Vrumugun kept so much inside that when he was allowed to express himself, in whatever way was possible, they had an energy that could not help but grab attention. It was beautiful in a fearsome and sad way. Zangulus' co-ordination and precision incorporated Vrumugun, the careful measured steps all working, adapting to whatever Vrumugun was doing perfectly, and the two of them moved as one being. At these times Vrumugun could forget everything that Zangulus had done, forget all the irritating things he could do, and just enjoy being with him, enjoy his company. He could just be there, letting his emotions, everything he kept inside, work it's way through his dance, and know that Zangulus was there with him, with every step and every arm movement. A spin and Zangulus was spinning around with him, some part of his skin always brushing against him, letting him know he was there.

Zangulus could be infuriating, frustrating, and anything far from the perfect friend, but at these times, he was everything in a friend that Vrumugun could ever want. He was _there_.

The beats moved his heart, and he could feel his thin body shuddering along with every thump of the bass drum, and it motivated his motions. He expressed his joy at being accepted through his motions, or at least attempted to, and Zangulus moved with him at all times, adapting to anything that Vrumugun could throw at him. He never worried that Zangulus would get lost, or get confused, or make a mistake. He knew that he would find some way to adapt, some way to work with it. Everything that he did Zangulus could counter, and this left him free to do anything. He tossed his head, watching his hair move in almost slow motion through a kaleidoscopic world of flashing and changing colors, lasers and beams of light going on and off through different shades, and he caught the tip-ends of Zangulus' ponytail in his vision for a few moments before he was gone, again moving with him, mirroring and countering his motions with every beat.

Was it these moments that made him come? That made him accompany Zangulus through all the stupid things he had to do to get ready, to put up with his fretting over what he wore and what he was doing and how he acted, to put up with all the preparation, with all the things that Zangulus made him wear, with all the awkward lessons Zangulus had insisted on before they even went at first? Was it all for this, these precious minutes in the middle of the floor surrounded by dozens of equally oddly dressed people, moving on the same lines and doing the same things as he was doing, all with only one thing on their minds? People doing everything he did, moving with him, just enjoying the music, nothing more, nothing less. Just trying to find happiness and finding it here, with thousands of other questors, in the realm of deep, loud music, the bright, flashing lights, the unity of one being with one mind with one goal.

Maybe that was what he came here for, the raver manifesto...Zangulus had explained plur to him a long time ago, and he had scoffed at the entire idea, not knowing anything about the scene at first, taking it as a world of drugs, of separation, of _people_ all out for themselves, to get high, to get anything, but now he understood. He understood the first time Zangulus had dragged him in the club, dragged him immediately to the center of the floor, and danced with him. It had only taken him seconds to pick up the beat, and only seconds more to allow himself to follow them. Since then he had always gone with Zangulus, although he told himself and Zangulus that it was for his safety.

Was it this, this peace, love, understanding, respect, that he had come to desire in life? This otherworldly place where people stopped being cruel for no reason to one another, and came in this primal collection to celebrate what a body would naturally do when presented with music? Was it this primitive, natural feeling he got when he danced, when he moved with Zangulus with such precision, to know he had a partner, someone who danced _with_ him? The knowledge that he_ belonged_ here, with these people, with this music thrumming in his ears, whirling and dancing with Zangulus right with him, moving without saying a single word, always dancing, always in motion.

He didn't want to come here originally, he knew that much. And when he was here, on the sidelines, he resented it. But when he was in the center, when he was dancing, it all faded away, and he wanted more then anything to be there. He wanted nothing more then just to be here, with Zangulus and everyone else, to be here to enjoy music he loved, to express emotions that otherwise were kept locked inside, tightly and securely. 

But he knew the moment he walked away, the feeling would vanish, and he again would wonder why he let Zangulus drag him here. He would doubt his feelings of euphoria on the dance floor, and misunderstand why he enjoyed coming here. Again, he would not understand, he would forget, and he would again become resentful.

The cycle had gone on for so long. He didn't know what to do about it, and had just come to accept it. This feeling of happiness and belonging he got here was enough for him. When he was in either phase he could not understand his emotions at the other side of the spectrum, and he decided that such a feat was impossible.

He opened his eyes and watched a woman with what seemed like a thousand necklaces and bracelets covering her arms, her neck, even what seemed to be thighs, go by before she vanished again into the crowd. He held his arms upwards, reaching for something he didn't even know, his body telling him to do so, telling him to reach, to reach out, to move his arms, his body.

He felt someone tap his shoulder, and he turned to see Zangulus looking at him. He smiled at him for a moment, waved, then moved back into the crowd that was surrounding him. 

Vrumugun, curious, wondered what had happened. Usually it was Vrumugun's exhaustion that made him leave the dance floor. While Zangulus had apparently unlimited stamina, Vrumugun could only dance for so long before he had to go rest. Zangulus almost never broke things off like this...was he going to get something to drink?

He followed him shortly into the crowd before finding him dancing with someone else, this one with long blonde hair. Vrumugun sighed for a moment, knowing of Zangulus capricious nature, and with it had gone his feeling of happiness. He threaded his way back through the moving bodies, sighing.

He felt a tinge of bitterness rise in him. Usually Zangulus waited until he had left before searching for someone _else_ to dance with. 

He hoped this was going to be a temporary thing, like the many others who had come. Too often he had to share the car with someone new that Zangulus had met on the dance-floor, listen to the two of them chatter on in the backseat as if he didn't exist, and with whom he would be amused with for a week or so before the relationship mutually disintegrated. 

He hated that about Zangulus, how he could just throw away relationships that easily, or make them so quickly. He never thought about it either, he just chose someone he happened to think was pretty, or sometimes even someone who happened to be there. He always claimed that he was searching for that "special someone", and it didn't matter who or what sex they were. He had an entire speech about freedom and exploration and being open to other experiences, but Vrumugun didn't believe a word of it. He knew Zangulus too well. He needed attention, constant attention, and every person he brought to the house was there to give him attention until he found the other aspects of their personalities that he didn't like, and then they would leave and forget about eachother. And in the meantime, Vrumugun had to deal with all the sideaffects of people staying up all night, Zangulus and whoever it was doing whatever it was they did, and getting enough food for the new guest.

He shouldn't have to deal with it, but he did. Just like he shouldn't have to let Zangulus walk all over him like this.

But he did...

Vrumugun finally made it back to his wall, sliding back into his seat slowly. Zangulus had a short attention span and rarely could stay dedicated to anything for long. Vrumugun was surprised that they had remained friends as long as they had, considering how easily Zangulus could move on after he had met someone. Vrumugun had proven to be the only person he had formed any kind of lasting attachment too, so much so to take him to anything that interested him, wanting to share things that made him happy with him. Vrumugun didn't understand why he was so special, but that didn't stop him from hating all the people that Zangulus decided to bring home.

He waited for Zangulus to inevitably show up, as he always did, to introduce him to his new "friend", a name he'd forget a few days after he had been introduced. He would probably never see whoever his mark was tonight again. Sometimes they only lasted a night.

He watched the crowd move by, this time a woman digging a pack of candy out of a furry backpack, again passing them out to random people, sometimes striking up a conversation with them before moving on. Vrumugun sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees, staring down at the dirty floor, wishing that the happiness he had felt so shortly before would come back to replace the growing cynicism and depression.

The freedom of emotion that came so easily on the dancefloor had apparently lodged whatever door that had opened in his shell open, and he felt tears rising to his eyes.

The irony was just amazing...the only place he ever really felt happy was here, but it was also the only place where he had ever cried openly, with other people around. Although his eyes showed his internal distress, his face continued to hold onto its emotionless mask, his breath coming in short and quick, efforts of his own mind to control his emotions, although he could not stop crying. It wasn't because he was sad, it was because he was angry, and helpless, and he hated it so much but he couldn't do anything about it.

The presence of shoes in his field of vision caused him to raise his head, wondering who Zangulus' newest flame would be. He sniffed for a moment before lookin upwards, rubbing the back of one hand across his face, clearing some of the remaining tears.

Instead, he saw the girl who had been handing out candy, watching him with a look of utmost sympathy. Without asking, she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him for a moment, in a quiet, quick hug. Despite the fact that he knew the atmosphere here was close and loving, he always felt alarmed and surprised when someone actually touched him, much less in such a caring and heart-felt manner. He didn't return her hug, only staring in confusion as she pulled herself away, smiling at him in a sad way before she dug through the bag she held in one hand, pulling out a piece of candy. She held it out to him, and Vrumugun found his tears had ceased, mainly due to his confusion. He took the candy with a weak smile, watching as she smiled in return, the sadness that it previously held vanishing at the sight of him smiling again.

"Don't be sad." She shouted over the music. "You're too pretty to be sad. Too pretty and too loved."

She looked at one of her wrists, pulling a bracelet off before dropping it in his lap, proceeding to vanish back into the crowd. A bracelet was a common gift, but still...it was a gift. He took the bracelet silently, staring at it with quiet contemplation. He put it in his pocket, still not fond of garishly bright colored plastic beads. 

Despite how false her statement seemed, the sincerity behind it and the hug was true, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. No, he wasn't pretty, and, he narrowed his eyes slightly, he surely was _not_ loved. But she had meant what she said. She had been concerned for someone she didn't even know, had never even met and probably would never meet again. She had been so concerned in seeing his distress that she understood it, understood how it was grief, just helpless furious grief, and without even needing to know the motive, tried to help. She had reached out to him with a hug just because he looked so sad, and that in itself made him feel better, and restored a little of his faith in the human race. That would never happen to him anywhere outside of here, in this vibe, and that had to be yet another reason why he came to these, why he tolerated everything that happened to him. 

He stared at the wrapped piece of candy, this time a Starburst. He unwrapped it and chewed on it slowly, watching as more people went by. This time it was strawberry. Not bad. The random acts of kindness from one of the strangers he would probably never see again had cheered him up slightly and he felt better. He actually believed he could deal with yet another of Zangulus' "friends" without exploding internally.

"Vrumugun!"

He looked to one side, seeing the familiar visage of Zangulus coming towards him, the blonde he had been dancing with in tow. He was smiling and waving, although Vrumugun had made it clear in several ways at several times how he felt about his friends. He could tell that Zangulus felt a bit awkward about doing this to him yet again from the strange twist in his smile and hesitance in his eyes.

The blonde had bright blue eyes, and long blonde hair that was dyed at the tips. Vrumugun sighed to himself. It was another candy raver...he could tell simply because he exuded this aura of cheerfulness, of optimism, of happiness and innocence without saying a word...although the necklaces and bracelets didn't hurt.

Underneath both of his eyes were stars drawn in marker, but in the style of crayons. Clinging tenaciously to one of the blonde tendrils that made its way down his back was a solitary butterfly clip, and he was wearing a blue shirt which ended at about his ribcage, one sleeve missing, obviously manually torn off, while the other was intact. Underneath it he could barely see the edge of a mesh undershirt, similar to what Zangulus wore, although this one did not continue down his arms. A tattoo of a sword with a light blue blade was on his left arm, or at least, it looked like one, and he was wearing black, fingerless gloves, covered with multicolored rings of bracelets. Hanging from his neck were several strings of brightly colored beads and a pacifier. Down both his forearms ran what appeared to be lightning bolts done in black, and a chain ran from the pocket of his torn and ripped black jeans to one of his beltloops. To Vrumugun's surprise, he was not wearing shoes. That was risky and uncommon, considering the things that could be spilt or dropped on the floor amidst all the motion and music. Vrumugun did notice with some confusion, however, that he seemed to be built the same as Zangulus, which was somewhat rare. They were about the same height as well, also unusual.

"Vrumugun, this is Gourry! Gourry, Vrumugun!" Zangulus shouted over the music. Gourry smiled brightly and waved.

"Hi!"

Vrumugun heaved a deep sigh. He had never taken to the candy ravers simply because he was not that optimistic, and that kind of overbearing cheeriness often wore on his nerves. Zangulus couldn't have picked a more irritating person to bring home. Vrumugun didn't try to hide the sarcasm from his voice with his response. 

"Charmed."

Gourry didn't even seem to notice, or perhaps he didn't hear, as Zangulus led him back to the floor. Vrumugun watched with a great deal of dissatisfaction and quiet anger, and he got up. He didn't want to be in here anymore knowing that the two of them were probably already dancing, matching movements, grabbing attention in the center of the party already. He slid through the crowd until he came to the exit, finally emerging out the back parking lot. He just could not be in there anymore.

The rush of fresh air was refreshing, and Vrumugun rubbed a hand for a moment over his forehead, noticing that he was sweating. Not unusual, considering all the activity he had engaged in fairly recently and the heat that was always present there. He searched around for a moment for a drinking fountain or something of the like, the muted sound of the music coming from the club behind him sounding quiet and faraway.

He had to walk a block away until he finally found one, drinking for a few moments before making his way back to the parking lot. He did get a few glances from passersby, but this neighborhood was known for raves, and he didn't get as much flak as he had expected. He also had a goth tinge to him, and considering that this area was also home to several of the vampclubs, as he called them, he also fit in in that aspect. 

A few others had found their way outside and were amusing themselves in various ways, through drugs or other activities, although Vrumugun had never dabbled in either area. He had been offered some E on several occasions, although he had refused. He knew too much about it to take it, although he wasn't sure about Zangulus. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, sure that even if he did ask Zangulus about it, he wouldn't get a truthful answer. 

He found the car, digging his keys out of his pocket and opening the front door, sitting inside with a sigh of discontent.

He glanced at the clock. It was only three am. This had to be a record for Zangulus. 

Most of the time Vrumugun would tolerate his little flings or his constant welcomes and farewells until four thirty. He sighed again and turned on the radio, picking out a tape from the mess that rested between his seat and the passengers, putting it in the player. He let the beat gently rise to him, keeping the volume at a reasonable level. It was the same kind of music playing in the club. He did love the music, particularly speed garage, although he loved almost everything that played.

But there were several things he did _not_ love about the scene.

He pushed himself back into his seat, closing his eyes and trying to let the music take him away, trying to focus on anything else then the fact that he was going to have to drive Vrumugun and most likely Gourry home as well. He frowned for a moment. Zangulus usually had the taste to leave the candys alone. Especially the new ones, which Gourry very obviously was. He wondered for a moment what would have inspired Gourry to have gone to a rave in the first place, or told him how to dress. He was obviously trying to blend in. Vrumugun smiled. The mission of almost everyone there was to_ not_ look like anyone else.

The memory of the woman who had given him the candy and hugged him came back to him, and he paused. He was probably being too hard on Gourry, considering. He was going against just what the woman had been trying to get through to him, and he felt regret for a few moments.

He narrowed his eyes, his bitterness rising again. No, he had no reason to feel regret. As much as he wanted to be as plurry as possible to others on the scene, Zangulus had left him alone on the dance floor for someone else, not even bothering to wait for Vrumugun to get tired or give some miserable excuse. It happened repeatedly and frequently, and he was getting tired of it. Very tired of it. He highly doubted that fit with the ideals of peace, love, understanding, and respect.

He didn't want to have to deal with Gourry. He had to deal with him being with Zangulus, he had to know, to _know_ that he had been passed up, replaced as it were, _by_ him. That he wasn't _good_ enough or _interesting_ enough to keep Zangulus' attention for more then _two_ _seconds_. He had _that_ knowledge. He didn't want to have any more. He didn't want to have to drive the two of them home, or deal with Zangulus' complete inability to understand what he did wrong despite how carefully he would try to explain it.

He sighed and tried to let the beats keep his mind off of things, wishing he could just erase everything that caused him such distress.

He did like the scene. He enjoyed some of the time he spent there.

No, it was the aftermath that he hated.

~~~

He must have dozed off in the car because he woke to the sound of tapping on the glass. He groggily came to, finding Zangulus tapping at his window.

Much to his surprise, he was alone.

Slightly confused but still very upset, he slowly unlocked the passenger side door, watching as Zangulus made his way around the car until he reached the door, sliding in quickly. He crossed his arms immediately, staring down at the apholstery at his feet which was almost entirely obscured by his jeans. He did not look happy.

Vrumugun for a moment almost considered being sympathetic, but his bitterness rose through instead. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, staring at Zangulus across from him. His tone as bitter and angry. "Where is Gourry?"

Zangulus narrowed his own eyes, although he did not look at Vrumugun, and mumbled underneath his breath. "He's taken."

Vrumugun shook his head, not hiding his own slight sigh of disgust before he started the car, leaning his arm against the his seat to look behind him. In a strange way, he almost felt pleased with knowing that whatever plans Zangulus had had been foiled, and he did indeed feel happy that he wouldn't have to deal with Gourry after all.

_So now you know how it feels to be rejected for someone else..._

Vrumugun did not voice his thoughts outloud, keeping them internal as usual, and his face was impassive as he pulled away, beginning the drive home. 


	2. Stealth - Love, Life, and Happiness (Bri...

~Author's Note~

I'm gonna really in da process of figgerin out where other Slayers chars are gonna fit in here. I've got Sylphiel, Martina, Rezo, Zelgadis, Gaav, Phibrizo, and Xellos pegged. I'm havin trouble figgerin out where ta put Amelia, Filia, and Valgaav. Goths? Hippies? Ravers? Punks? I dunno. Suggestions are appreciated. ^_^ 

  
Zangulus let his head fall back against the headrest of the car, the rythmic sound of the music coming from the speakers helping to stifle any conversation that may have followed the two short statements.

He chanced a glance towards Vrumugun, finding his face frozen in that perfect emotionless mask. Even without any outward displays of emotion, he could tell that he was upset, most likely sulking over something he had apparently done wrong.

He was glad the music was so loud, that way he wouldn't have an excuse to break the silence. 

He hated it when he acted like this. He always got this way after he talked to someone else. Vrumugun had to be one of the most possessive people he had ever known. This time he actually had a _motive_ for leaving him on the dance floor, which in retrospect may not have been such a good idea. He doubted that Vrumugun would be interested, but he decided he would try and explain it to him when they got back home. He'd let him sulk through the car ride since he seemed to want to do it so much.

He closed his eyes, trying to forget about the problem of Vrumugun and how he would deal with that in favor of the more recent memories he had just attained.

He had spent enough time on the scene to know who was there for the right reasons and who was there for the wrong. He could spot people going for fashion, for pressure, for friends, and for drugs easily.

He could also see people who went for loneliness. That he had problems classifying as either right or wrong, and he decided it deserved a special category by itself.

Zangulus had been dancing with Vrumugun, enjoying himself, without another thought entering his mind save the beat of the music, until he caught a glimpse of blond hair through the crowd. His eye instinctually followed it, and then he was able to see the face of the person the hair belonged to, and he could see behind the smile terrible, crippling sadness. His movements were jerky, unfamiliar, and longing, and it was obvious in his closed eyes that he was trying to forget something, although it wasn't clear what it was. It had shocked and surprised him, but the crowd moved and obscured his view.

He had to know what was wrong, or at least try to help in some way. He didn't like watching people struggling to feel the same happiness that came so easily for others. He felt that was unfair, and more often then not he was concerned with helping those who were new or unfamiliar with the scene acclimate until they too, could enjoy the emotion and joy of it all. 

He knew he couldn't talk to Vrumugun with the music so loud, and he also knew how much he hated it when he left him alone on the floor, but this time there were extentuating circumstances and he hoped that he would understand.

Zangulus felt a sharp twinge of bitterness. Of course, Vrumugun_ never _understood. But that was beside the point.

He had made his way through the crowd and stood next to him, watching as the blonde man opened his eyes in what seemed to be surprise, before smiling and waving at him. Zangulus watched as he tried to speak to him, or at least try and introduce himself. That quickly marked him as someone who had never been in the scene before, as it was common knowledge that dance partners do not last very long, and it is rare you ever see one again. Zangulus nodded to whatever it was he said, which seemed to please him, and danced along with him. 

This seemed to make him very happy. 

Zangulus could understand why, having known the feeling of being surrounded by hundreds of people and still being utterly alone, which is what he guessed correctly was bothering him.

Gourry...the name came back to him. Gourry Gabriev. Another odd thing about him...it was rare that someone on the scene would ever give their last name as well as their first, just because of how fleeting almost all the relationships were. When he first came he made the same mistake, assuming there was some kind of permanence in the scene, but he soon found out that was not the case. In a way, that had to be part of the allure, the fact it was all so fleeting, so temporary, no hassles, nothing. Just dance, that was all. 

He glanced sidelong at Vrumugun for a moment, who had his eyes fixated steadily on the road ahead. He knew all too well the baggage that came with knowing someone _too_ well could bring.

He gave his first name in response, which he could almost visibly see Gourry make a mental note of. He must have honestly thought that he would see Zangulus again. That kind of faith and innocence was something that Zangulus was not normally familiar with, and unlike with many other new dancers at the scene, it wasn't irritating. Most of the time he found the wide-eyed naivete of most new people, particularly the candys, extremely irritating, but something about that seemed to quell that feeling. It was the simple _honesty_ around him. Nothing about him seemed fake. He was almost positive that he had dressed this way not only so that he would not stand out, but also because it was comfortable. 

Something about him resonated that kind of emotion, that kind of sad, pleading "please like me" feeling that was so much more honest then the fake facade of non-chalance that so many hid behind. So many people could not admit that they needed the approval or guidance of others to guide their actions and tried to hide it, and that was what truly irritated Zangulus. But with Gourry...there was nothing. None of that at all. Gourry just wanted Zangulus to _like_ him, honestly and openly. That was enough to capture his interest and keep by him.

He was sure by this time that Vrumugun would have gone off somewhere in confusion or off to sulk, upset that he had been left for _two seconds_ by himself. He must have had a terrible fear of being abandoned or forgotten, because he made it clear all too often that he was sure that was what Zangulus was going to do. They had been friends for so long, they even lived together, but Vrumugun was still frightened of abandonment or insanely possessive, although either fault the silent, emotionless man would never admit to. It drove Zangulus crazy, and he kept that no secret.

He and Gourry had found their way eventually to one of the nearby walls where they managed to have a semi-conversation through shouting and hand-gestures. When he asked Gourry why he had decided to come to the scene, he somewhat avoided the question, instead asking Zangulus what he did, or what he liked with genuine interest. Zangulus didn't press the issue and continued to speak with him on other, easier topics. Assuming that he was searching for some kind of guidance, Zangulus subtly gave him advice on how he should be acting and the like, because it was obvious that he was desperatly trying not to stand out. Zangulus didn't know him well enough to attempt to read more into it then that.

He knew that Vrumugun hated it when he tried to make new friends or even have a romantic life of any sort. In a way he was extremely selfish, concerned about how any prospective friend of Zangulus would affect how _he_ lived and how _he_ had to deal with it and how it would affect _their_ friendship, and he never seemed to take into consideration Zangulus' feelings on the matter. More then one of any of those he had brought home had been greatly put-off and even somewhat frightened by Vrumugun's cold, detached manner, and he was almost positive that Vrumugun knew about it and did it on purpose. 

Although most people would have been angry or put a stop to what could be seen as an over-possessive friendship, he knew he was happier with Vrumugun then without and knew it was the same for him. Despite all the things that bothered him about Vrumugun, he was glad to know him. And he was glad that he had managed to get Vrumugun out into the scene in the first place. He knew enough about him to know that he had a lot he needed to get out, a lot of very strong pent-up emotions, and he was glad that he had somewhere to vent them.

Something about Gourry captured his interest. Maybe it was how he was trying to forget something, or the sadness in his eyes, or the fact that the two of them were alike, yet so different. He couldn't place what made him so interesting, but he decided he may as well go along with it while he had the chance. He decided, although he knew Vrumugun would not be pleased, to try and introduce Gourry to him, considering that if he would accept his eventual invitation to his place, Vrumugun would meet up with him eventually, so he might as well go through the polite motions of it all.

Gourry apparently could not read the dripping sarcasm in Vrumugun's one word response, but Zangulus easily could. Knowing that arguing here (considering the volume of the music and other factors) was nearly impossible, he led Gourry away, not letting him know just how upset Vrumugun was. He'd leave that for a later time.

Gourry asked him who Vrumugun was in relation to him, and Zangulus explained to him that they shared an apartment together and were friends. Most of the time when he explained the situation he got bizarre looks and the slight inching away of someone who read too deeply into it, but Gourry nodded and apparently took it completely at face value. That was interesting and unfamiliar to him...Zangulus had been with Vrumugun so long that he read deeply into _every_thing that was done or said.

They returned to the dance floor to enjoy the music once again, Gourry matching Zangulus in terms of stamina, although he tried very hard to mimic Zangulus' maneuvers. This threw him off a few times, because although he was a master of adapting to other people, he had never had someone actually try to _copy_ him. He had mastered the ability to dance with someone who he had never danced with before. But when he did a swooping bow with his arms, he could see Gourry following his movements. When he spun, he could feel the brush of his skin following the same direction. It confused him, and he lost some of the natural smoothness that he had while dancing, but it presented him with a challenge, and he took it up readily. He never backed down from a challenge.

When he would chance a look at Gourry's face, he'd find him positively lit up, a smile on bright, happy features, the painful sadness that had been there before gone, apparently vanished. Was it because of him? Or was it just his imagination? Gourry was viewing the entire dance something like a game...and although there was no way to declare a winner, Zangulus decided that he would play as well.

The two of them danced for a long time, minutes and hours slipping by without any sign of either of them tiring, before Gourry stopped short, looking panicked for a moment. The fear on his face startled Zangulus to a stand-still, and he stared at him in confusion.

He managed to make out the question Gourry was shouting over the music. 

"What time is it?"

Zangulus _never_ wore a watch.

Gourry was promptly seized by a sudden surge of panic, hyperventilating and trembling. Extremely confused, Zangulus managed to grab Gourry's arms before he toppled over onto the floor from oxygen deprivation. Some around him gave him advice that Zangulus was a little too busy to listen to at the moment as he slung Gourry's arm across his shoulder and dragged him out of the crowd. There were a few helping hands and concerned glances, but in the end there was nothing the rest of those present could really do. Zangulus managed to drag Gourry free and pulled him outside, kicking the door open roughly while trying to support his weight. He had never been accustomed to someone who was roughly the same size as he was before...Gourry was heavier then he expected.

He leaned Gourry against a wall, watching as he slowly sunk downwards to his knees, a slight crunching sound emitting from the gravel. Zangulus knelt beside him, a hand on his shoulder, while Gourry continued to shake, his breath coming in rapidly and quick. He put a hand to his chest for a few moments, his face masked by a veil of bright, blonde hair.

"Gourry, Gourry, are you okay? What happened in there?"

Gourry continued shaking for a few moments, struggling to keep his breathing under control, before he finally turned his head towards Zangulus, his hair sliding back enough to reveal his face. He was smiling in a pained and frightened way.

"S-sorry, that happens sometimes...what time is it? Do you know?"

"No, I don't." Zangulus watched Gourry's head again turn away from him, his hair again sliding to obscure him from view. "Dude, what's wrong? Do you need to go somewhere? You really freaked out."

It took Gourry a few minutes to respond, his breathing finally slowing. The hand he had pressed to his chest joined it's companion on the gravel, shaking terribly. "Yeah...kind of..."

"Here, lean back." Zangulus pushed Gourry back until he was no longer bent over his knees. His hair slid back again, revealing him still smiling in that pained way. He leaned against the wall gratefully, breathing quickly and deep. "Need some water or something?"

Gourry paused for a second, his breathing stopping shortly and a brief expression of pain crossing his face before it passed, almost as quickly as it had come. He took a few deep breaths after that and looked at Zangulus with the same smile he had seen at first, the empty shell. It was painful in so many ways. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Zangulus stared at him in worry. He knew that many newcomers got dehydrated when they first went out, but this didn't seem like dehydration...Gourry just seemed _scared_.

"I'll be right back." Zangulus stood, listening to the gravel crunch beneath his feet as he walked away, checking in one of his deep, large pockets for the empty bottle of water he carried in there. He swore at himself for drinking it all earlier, but he knew where a water fountain was, so that wouldn't be much of a problem. He glanced back at Gourry, who was leaning his head against the wall, his eyes closed.

_That guy's got some major demons after him if he's THAT scared..._

He continued walking, pulling the bottle out and uncapping it far before he reached the fountain itself. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be there...but what could hold so much power over such a big guy? Family? Friends? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?

Zangulus was confused and worried. He had known Gourry for such a short time, but he already felt mildly concerned for him, a slight amplification of the feeling that had made him approach him in the first place. Whatever it was that scared him, he didn't want it to hurt him. Gourry didn't deserve to be hurt...something about him...something about him made that very clear.

Zangulus tried to sort out of his feelings as he guided water into the narrow neck of the bottle. He definitly wanted to talk with Gourry further and get to know him better. He'd have to get his phone number. Those were permanent. 

But what was it that frightened him? Would it cause problems for him? Would it approve of a friendship?

Zangulus narrowed his eyes as he capped the bottle and slid it back into his pocket, heading backwards with a quick, crisp step. He would be friends with Gourry on principle alone, on the fact that when he was with him, he had stopped being so sad for just those precious moments. Gourry liked to be with him and liked him, and he wanted to be his friend. There was _nothing_ wrong with that, and Zangulus wasn't about to let anyone stop him, whether it be Gourry's fear or Vrumugun's emotionless paranoia.

When he got within viewing distance of Gourry, still sitting against the wall, someone else was there. Worried and frightened, he almost broke into a run until he saw Gourry smile and put up a hand, almost as if to ward them off playfully.

He slowed his pace, walking towards Gourry and whoever it was cautiously, trying to understand what was going on.

The shorter girl had her hands on her hips, her wrists covered with thick, spiked bracelets which matched the one around her neck. Her hair was firey red and wild, obviously unbrushed, and it fell past her waist. He could see a black stripe painted over her left eye and streaks or slashes running down her arms, running into the black shirt she was wearing, the only thing breaking the solid color being the presence of another necklace, this one longer then the collar and decorated with shiny white fangs. She wore large black jeans, torn at the bottoms, and big, thick boots. 

Zangulus knew her type well and avoided them on purpose...punks of that caliber often picked arguments and fights for no reason, and in particular he could recall hearing of a certain red-headed one that had a nasty reputation of incapacitating everyone she ran across...

He finally came close enough to hear some snippets of conversation, his pace getting slower and slower.

"...to god! You didn't even tell me where you were going! And so I find you here in all this weird makeup dancing with _them_?" Zangulus didn't like her tone. "You know they hate us! And you're just sitting here trying to _look_ like one of them!"

Gourry had his hand behind his head and was trying desperatly to pacify her, his tone calm and reassuring. "Aw Lina, you know it's nothing like that, I was just curious, that's all..."

"Curious!? God, you know we hate them! It's for a _reason_!" She clenched her fist, visibly enraged. "I can't believe this! We had plans tonight and you blow them off to play _raver_! Of all things! Don't you know what effect that'll have on our reputation?"

"I think you're overreacting. No one knows me here Lina, honest. They wouldn't recognize me anyway..."

"Oh c'_mon_, Gourry!" She moved forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him up without much effort. Zangulus wasn't sure whether it was her decision or Gourry had decided to just follow her directions. "I can't believe you're wasting time with those drugged-up glow-stickers. We've got stuff to do."

The two of them began walking away, and Zangulus stared after them silently, feeling slight beads of perspiration building on the bottle he still held in his hand.

"I didn't see any glow-sticks..."

Lina clenched a fist and struck Gourry across the head, causing him to flinch away sharply. "Stupid!"

"Ow!"

Zangulus felt burning rage filling him without warning. A fierce protectiveness had apparently risen within him for the blonde and the sight of him being struck, although it was obvious it couldn't have caused any damage, was enough to make him furious. He forced his hands to let go of the bottle before he crushed the plastic, not even noticing that he had been gripping it tighter as his thoughts progressed. He debated running up and giving Gourry the bottle, but in the end he decided it would be better if he let them go.

He couldn't move for several minutes after they had left though, still running over what had just happened in his mind and forcing himself to calm down.

So...he was a punk...one of them...but why?

Why did he come _here_? What was he trying to do?

Zangulus didn't understand. He _hated_ that.

He opened the cap, took a quick drink, and then replaced it back in his pocket, dissatisfied with the entire outcome of the night. His evening pretty much soured, he went in search of the car, guessing correctly that Vrumugun would be there, sulking with his arms crossed.

Although he was correct as to the location, he was not correct in his action, and came to see Vrumugun asleep, his head tilted back against his headrest, his mouth slightly open. His arms rested across his lap, and he was leaning just slightly to his right, a few strands of limp brown hair resting across his face. He couldn't help a small smile at that...he always looked so peaceful as he slept. But the memory of what he had just seen stained his emotions, and he could feel deep bitterness, not necessarily at Vrumugun but rather at Gourry and Lina in a subtle way, overcoming any desire to reconciliate with his friend. He tapped on the glass quickly, eager to leave and try and forget.

When Vrumugun woke, he immediately cast his eyes to Zangulus' side, and was almost visibly surprised when he found no one there. Zangulus bit down a wave of anger at Vrumugun, indirectly blaming him, unfairly, for what had happened, and went around to the other side of the car.

He could hear the hatred and bitterness underneath Vrumugun's tone as he asked him the question, contemptous.

"Where is Gourry?"

_I bet you're happy I'm alone, aren't you? Happy you got me all to yourself to ignore._ Zangulus found himself channeling his anger at Gourry's situation towards Vrumugun, and then, just barely, managed to stop himself. _I'm sure not.  
_"He's taken."  
_By the wrong person...  
_


	3. Stealth - This Is My Life (Brisk MIX)

~Author's Note~

In case yer curious, Xellos and Zelgadis will be showin up in da next chapter. ^_^ Just somethin ta look forward ta. Oh yeah, and chapter titles are songs from Dancemania Happy Ravers. ^_^ Mwa ha. 

The drive back was mainly characterized by the silence that got increasingly more unbearable as time passed. Although at first Vrumugun had sat completely still, after a short while he could not help but move just slightly along with the beat of the music. A quick glance told him that Zangulus was doing the same. It was somewhat awkward, as bad feelings still lingered and it tinted their motions and motivations.

They finally pulled into their complex, noting only a few windows having any kind of light, reasonable considering what time it was. Vrumugun had, considerately, turned the music down from the near-deafening volume it had before before pulling in. Their arrival therefore was relatively eventless, and no one bothered or cared to look out their window to see the two as they scaled the stairs that led to their small apartment.

Zangulus followed along behind him. He still felt somewhat angry, but he also hated having to deal with these long silences. In arguments past Vrumugun had constantly and almost invariably proven that he could easily defeat Zangulus in bouts of icy silence, and Zangulus could only be quiet so long before he felt the urge to comment on something, anything. He was very outspoken, and although he forayed into the realm of speechlessness for some time, he never felt at home there.

Vrumugun did not look behind him to confirm his friend's presence, although the noise of his shoes hitting the floor was an easy auditory indication. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, fitting it into the door's lock, feeling Zangulus' presence nearby more through body heat then anything else. 

He sighed slightly to himself. Although he was by nature a rather taciturn person, he did not like his silence to be forced and he disliked this type of argument just as much as Zangulus did. He paused for a moment, turning the knob and feeling the mechanism release, before managing to think of something to say.

His voice was very quiet but not completely emotionless. Underneath the words there was a tinge of sadness, and his voice told more then he had intended...that he had given up.

"What was he like?"

He stepped into the apartment, almost hearing Zangulus start behind him at the sudden question. It was rare that he would break the silence. 

Zangulus stepped inside and headed for the one couch they owned in front of the television, sitting and beginning to pull off his shoes. He glanced up at Vrumugun, who automatically headed for the bathroom to wash off the makeup that he seemed to hate so much. The entire procedure was routine, Vrumugun going to the bathroom and Zangulus heading for the couch, and they rarely deviated from their almost pre-planned actions.

Although the conversation had been opened, Zangulus was unprepared, and he wasn't sure how to respond at first. He held one shoe in his hand before he could think of something to say that would be non-threatening and un-incriminating. 

"He was nice."

Again, silence greeted him, although this time it didn't seem to hold any of the hostility it contained before. He could tell, from the tone in his voice from before, that Vrumugun had apparently given up the argument, or whatever grudge he was holding, with the knowledge that it would eventually be useless. A sad kind of submission to something that he had become used to.

He pulled off his sock and other shoe, spreading his toes, feeling the cool air, before dropping both of his shoes, where they fell almost underneath the couch. He paused, staring at his feet, trying to think of what else he could say, not feeling comfortable at leaving the conversation at two simple statements. He stood, noting the peculiar feel of one sock compared to his bare foot on the bare floor, but decided he'd keep it that way, although he had no particular reason to do so.

He walked over to the bathroom, opening the slightly ajar door cautiously. Vrumugun had taken his typical stance in front of the mirror. There were long pauses in his motions where he would simply stare at his reflection, unknown thoughts going through his head before he would seem to remember what he was doing, wetting his fingers and rubbing at the markings around and underneath his eyes, his face completely emotionless.

Vrumugun's eyes glanced at him through the use of the mirror, and then turned downward for a moment, a quick and unintentionally open breaking of eye-contact. He didn't say anything before resuming his work at removing the markings, black and blue ink smearing and blending into his skin before disappearing gradually. He noted that the large ankh and the other accessories Vrumugun wore had already been cast off to one side, put in an almost organized pile beside the hamper.

Zangulus felt increasingly awkward. Usually arguments of silence like this lasted a bit longer, and although Vrumugun often would give up when he felt like Zangulus was being too obstinate in his opinions, it always made him feel somewhat guilty. He always felt like the villain in these scenarios, even if all his motivations and reasons seemed just. He looked back down at his feet again, shoving his hands in his pockets. His fingertips brushed against the cap of the water bottle.

"...Really nice..." Zangulus wasn't sure what else he could say. He didn't want to bring up-

"Is that why you went to dance with him?"

Normally his tone would have held some hidden anger or venom, but this time it was just a quiet statement of a fact. It didn't make Zangulus feel any better. He turned away for a moment, anger rising to replace his confusion.

"It's hard to explain, I mean...I didn't mean to leave you alone but I couldn't really explain it there...he was just..."

He glanced upwards to the corner of the door frame he was leaning on, not wanting to make eye-contact. The slight trickle of water continued to pervade the bathroom, and occasional breaks in the sound were the only easy indications that Vrumugun was continuing with what he had been doing before. He sighed softly, not sure of how to explain it. "He was...sad...very sad and...lonely in this terrible way...I just wanted to help him feel a bit more at home, y'know. Help him..._feel_ everything."

There was an awkward pause. He could see slight movement from Vrumugun from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't identify exactly what it was.

"Ah."

It was a simple, quick statement with no emotion, but it did not make Zangulus feel better. It, in fact, only made him feel more guilty then he had before. He turned his head to look at him, curiousity overcoming him, finding the silent man drying his face off with a nearby towel.

"Do you know what I mean? It's..." Zangulus fumbled for any words that wouldn't make the situation any worse then it was. "It's...y'know..."

He gestured inarticulately, returning his eyes back to the corner of the doorframe. "It's...complicated..."

He waited, hoping for Vrumugun to say anything to break the increasingly uncomfortable silence. The water ceased it's noise, and he turned his head again. Vrumugun had taken off the leather vest he was wearing and was digging through the hamper next to the sink. He could see his shoulderblades protruding from his back, along with his spine, slight strands of brown hair sliding down to find their place in front of his shoulders.

It only took a few moments before Vrumugun finally found his most common and beloved article of clothing. A large, dark grey hooded sweatshirt with a front pouch. He pulled it over his head quickly, both arms finding their way through the sleeves with easy and practiced grace, the thick fabric falling to obscure his thin body from view. The hood was already up considering the way that he had put the sweater on, and he reached his hands underneath, untying the black cloth that had covered his head and placing it in the hamper, almost as a replacement.

And still, only the rustle of fabric had served to break the silence that continued to grow.

"You know what I mean, right?" Zangulus attempted again. _Maybe he didn't hear me..._

Vrumugun didn't turn around. He, in fact, showed no sign of hearing him at all, not even a change or pause in his motions. He continued digging through the hamper, pulling some clothes out but placing them nearby in a semi-folded pile, before removing a pair of jeans. He stared at them for a few seconds, apparently thinking or considering something.

Finally he turned around, and his face told Zangulus nothing. Not even his eyes betrayed the slightest bit of emotion as he walked towards him. Zangulus moved out of the doorway, and Vrumugun left the bathroom without a word, going into his room and closing the door behind him.

Was he angry? Sad? Confused? Upset?

Zangulus hated this. He hated not being able to tell and not knowing how to react. 

Frustrated, but trying to keep himself from getting angry, he cast off his own necklace, going back near the front door and opening the nearby closet. Vrumugun digging out one of his favorite sweaters reminded Zangulus that he had something of his own that would help him feel better. 

His hands reached automatically up towards the upper shelf of the closet, closing around the brim of his favorite hat. It was a greyish-brown, floppy, wide-brimmed hat that he did not even recall getting, although it always made him feel better to have it or wear it. He placed it on his head, feeling it settle naturally, and his feelings calmed slightly. He wasn't sure why this hat had this effect on him, but it probably wasn't important. Vrumugun's sweater probably had the same effect on him.

Vrumugun...

Rolling his eyes, he moved to the couch and sat down, clicking on the TV. He wasn't interested in any of the programs, only interested in the noise blocking out some of his more bothersome thoughts. 

Fine, if Vrumugun didn't want to talk to him, then fine. He could do what he wanted. It didn't matter to him.

Zangulus was actually quite tired, but he didn't want to admit or show it, clicking through several channels with the volume low. Maybe Vrumugun would go to sleep or something, but not him.

The click of a door opening and closing caught his attention, and he glanced over to Vrumugun's room, where he found him exiting, the black pants now replaced with looser blue jeans. He paused, his back to the door but his hand still resting on the knob. The two of them stared at eachother for a moment, Vrumugun's face still revealing no emotion. He finally moved, breaking eye-contact, his fingers sliding off the metal as he walked over to the couch, bare feet moving almost noiselessly across the equally bare floor. He sat down at the opposite end of the couch, his eyes focusing on the flashing pictures, for all the world acting as if Zangulus was not even there.

The TV flickered with nonsense for a few minutes, Zangulus feeling more and more awkward. Maybe he should try again...it was worth a shot...

"I don't know..." At the sound of his voice he caught Vrumugun's ice eyes glancing in his direction for a few seconds. At least he had awknowledged his presence. "I mean...there was...it's hard to explain...there was something about him. Something...real." He scratched his head for a moment. "Something honest...it was different...strange..."

Vrumugun turned towards him to look at him, but still said nothing. His face followed suit.

"It was like...kind of like he was trying to lose himself. Lose himself in the music...I don't know, it's...d'you know what I mean?" Hoping that would at least prompt him into a response, Zangulus was disappointed as Vrumugun continued to stare at the TV, not a single word escaping his lips or an emotion crossing his face.

"We...talked for a while..." He didn't want to mention dancing with him, as he was sure that was where the heart of the argument was. "He was really nice...but he...avoided a lot of questions. He didn't like talking about being there. I think he was nervous, kind of...probably never been there before...you know the type."

No response.

"He seemed like a really nice guy though...and we..." He tried to think of some other way to phrase it, still not wanting to bring it up. "Well, y'know...later on..."

He mentally cursed himself after the words left him. There were probably a thousand better ways he could phrased that. Ugh, he was just making this worse.

"He...kind of freaked out." Zangulus found the memory more unsettling then before now that he had more time to think of exactly what had happened. "'Cause he didn't know what time it is. You know I don't wear a watch so I couldn't tell him...he had this major fit...it was like he thought he was goin' to die or something..."

Vrumugun continued to stare forward.

"I don't know..." Zangulus felt a growing frustration at him. He was trying to talk to him, the least he could do was _respond_ in some way, whether it was anger or disgust or _any_thing. "It's hard to explain..."

Silence.

He felt muscles tightening to narrow his eyes, but he fought the temptation. He tried to think of something that he would _have_ to answer, or at least provoke something from him. "What did you do tonight?"

He again cursed himself. He didn't intend for it to sound so cruel, but now it just sounded like he was baiting or tormenting him. He toyed with some of the frayed strands of his jacket, wishing that he had the mental or linguistic grace to avoid making these all-too-common mistakes.

Even at the direct question, Vrumugun did not turn around to face him. There was a momentary twitch in his face, but it was hard to tell whether it was unintentional or some kind of repressed emotion surfacing. That was encouraging in it's own right...maybe he would start talking again...

"Vru-"

"He was taken."

He was startled by the fact that Vrumugun cut him off, but was glad for his return to the conversation.

"Yeah..."

Vrumugun made a noncommital noise. Zangulus felt somewhat obligated to continue, the memories of what had happened causing him to clench his hand to a fist.

"Yeah, taken by this abusive punk-@#^#$...she actually hits him! Gah, it makes me so angry...I hate it when people think they can do that to other people...it's just so frustrating...I wish I could have done something...he didn't deserve that, you know...? God, I'm worried about him, if he's okay...I mean, what if...I don't know..."

Zangulus felt a growing frustration at himself for not being able to articulate himself any better, not even when he was this upset or felt so strongly about something. He couldn't even explain how _angry_ the entire thing had made him, or how he felt about Gourry, although he was sure that Vrumugun didn't actually _want _to know everything in that case...he could never find the right words to express himself, and it just made things worse.

Vrumugun didn't say anything, only nodding, but even that was enough to make Zangulus feel a bit better. Maybe he _would_ understand...

Vrumugun's voice was soft, but the tone was no longer that of sadness. It was hard to identify, but some emotion lay in his words.

"Do you want my advice?"

Zangulus paused, Vrumugun ever willingly volunteering speech uncommon, but eventually nodded. There was a pause before he spoke again, his voice still tinged by the unidentifiable emotion.

"Let it go."

With that, Vrumugun stood and, without any emotion on his face, walked out of the room, entering his room and closing the door slowly behind him. Zangulus watched him for a moment, then felt the slight burst of anger he had been repressing for the majority of the evening.

"Feh, 'let it go'...like I have a problem or something...I'll do whatever I want, it's _my_ life..." He muttered under his breath before turning back to the television. 

It was fully an hour before it had lulled him into a sleepy enough state to turn it off and head to his own room, shedding his jacket and what was underneath it, and eventually sliding underneath his own covers, the events of the night still weighing heavily on his mind.

~~~

Vrumugun woke somewhat early after what seemed to be twenty minutes of sleep, but in truth turned out to be about three hours. Either way, he was tired and somewhat groggy, but thankfully it was the first day of the weekend, thus precluding any need for him to be anywhere.

He lay in bed for a few moments, struggling to remember the fleeting shreds of his dreams, his eyes closing again for a few moments. He eventually gave into his body and slipped back into sleep, this time for four more hours.

When he again woke, his dreams slipped from him as quickly as before as he forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes to try and force the thought of sleep from them. He adjusted his sweater, which had slid slightly to one side in his nightly motions and left his bed, yawning silently as he headed out into the living room.

The silence that hung over the apartment was a sure sign that Zangulus was still asleep, and when, to confirm this, he took a quick peek into his bedroom he found himself to be correct. He noted with a slight shake of his head that he hadn't even removed the dark blue from around his eyes. Fortunately his sheets were dark anyway, so it wasn't immediately visible if they had been stained or anything of that nature.

However, amusingly enough, the blue powder had spread over Zangulus' face in large swathes, and Vrumugun, despite his best efforts, could not help a small smile at that. He'd be in for a surprise when he woke.

He shut the door quietly and began walking towards the kitchen, the first place his body told him to go, a sigh escaping him.

He was almost positive that Zangulus was upset at him slightly, most likely for how he had acted the previous night. As he began to fix himself something to eat, he ran over his own actions in his mind.

In retrospect, there were many things that he should have said or done, but it was far too late for that now. He shouldn't have remained so silent, as that had done nothing to help the situation, but he did not know what he should have said. He didn't know how to respond to what Zangulus had told him...

He was nice...he was sad...he was lonely...he was real...

He should have said something, whether vicious or not, but instead nothing had come to mind. He had just been silent, quiet, his face reverting to it's most common expression whenever he came under emotional turmoil. He had no idea how to respond.

He was no longer angry at Zangulus. He was beginning to wonder whether or not he had ever truly been angry at him. He wasn't even sure if he was depressed by his actions. He just felt sad and empty inside, and he couldn't place why.

He had to let go of this all. To let go of his resentment. He just had to accept this now as part of his life that he was not able to change. He just had...had to accept this.

He made his way to the couch, carrying the sandwhich he had made himself in one hand, a soda in the other, as he sat down. He stared at the blank screen in front of him, seeing his vague reflection in the near-black of the glass. His reflection showed that his face, again, had taken on the emotionless mask that he had become so accustomed to.

When Zangulus woke, he was going to speak to him. He didn't want to keep this silence going. Even if he wasn't sure what to say or how he was feeling, he was going to say something...

He hated fighting with him like this as much as he was sure the feeling was reciprocated. He disliked the awkwardness of the entire situation, the strain it put on something that never should have required this much thought. He wanted this resolved...even if he just had to...as he had put it last night...let the whole thing go.

He finally clicked on the TV, not sure how long he had been staring at the glass thinking without realizing it, and tried to blank out his thoughts as he ate. Eventually, finding this was not working, he pulled one of his favorite books from one of the bookshelves and decided to read that, although he kept the television on in the background.

Perhaps two hours went by before Zangulus woke, stumbling out of his room sleepily, black hair wildly flaring around his head, although his hat kept some of it under control or hidden. The blue color now covered the majority of his face. He noticed Vrumugun sitting on the couch and waved to him clumsily.

Vrumugun stared at him for a moment, again finding words frustratingly escaping him. Instead, he just pointed at his face.

"What?" Zangulus' voice was sleepy and blurred, and he turned towards the bathroom, sticking his head in to get a look at himself. The loud obscenity that followed made Vrumugun smile slightly to himself, watching the bathroom door shut behind his friend.

Feeling slightly better, he returned his attention to his book.

Zangulus emerged a short while later, his hair brushed and tied back into it's ponytail once again and his face clean of the offending color. He had also changed his clothes, this time settling for a pair of jeans and a shirt with the words "Drink Coffee! Do stupid things faster with more energy!". He yawned loudly again before rummaging through the kitchen for something to eat. Vrumugun had long ago finished his meal, although he continued to nurse his soda, and he kept a hand on his page. He never got much reading done while Zangulus was awake, as he constantly said or did things that commanded his attention. He was used to it and had adapted to it.

Zangulus eventually made his way to the couch, a bag of chips in one hand. He sat down with another yawn, glancing at Vrumugun again.

Although it pained him to do so, he gave a soft smile in response. He hated having to just give up an argument like this, particularly one that he felt should rightfully be his, but at this point he just wanted this to stop.

Zangulus looked visibly relieved at the show of emotion from Vrumugun and sighed again, looking back at the glowing screen.

There was a short pause, but Vrumugun didn't want it to extend longer then necessary.

"Any dreams?"

"I don't know." Zangulus gave a neutral reply as more of a sign that he had heard Vrumugun's question but had not thought of a real answer yet. There was only a short pause before he spoke again. "I can't really remember right now. I think Gourry and Lina were in it."

Vrumugun felt his eye twitch for a moment, although he did not know why, and tried to focus on the words beneath his hands. _He was even dreaming about them..._ "A nightmare?"

Zangulus looked kind of thoughtful, and now it was common knowledge that neither of them were actually paying attention to what they were looking at. "I guess it was...it just makes me so angry...! He doesn't deserve to be treated like that."

Vrumugun sighed to himself as he sensed one of Zangulus' rants coming up. The displeasure and disapproval he had for Zangulus' actions had now resurfaced, but his face remained impassive. They'd probably never see Gourry again, but Zangulus had already worked it up into a cause to fight for. No doubt he would eventually be dragged all around town looking for Gourry until Zangulus found some other cause to rally behind for a short period.

And at this rate, he _would_ have to deal with Gourry in the apartment. That was something that he had far from reconciled with, and it was something that he did not want nor look forward too.

"I mean, this guy, you could just tell he was really sensitive! I mean, he had these eyes...these big, innocent eyes..." Zangulus took on a slightly wistful tone. "He even worked out! And his hair...really long blonde hair...you could tell he took care of it, it was beautiful...I mean...I can't believe anyone would ever hurt him! How on earth did he ever get in with her? He's not a punk, he can't be..."

Vrumugun had forgot that Gourry was actually a punk, but now that the knowledge had been brought back to him, it did not soften his opinion.

"He belongs with _us_." Zangulus gestured vaguely for a moment, and Vrumugun was unsure whether or not he meant the raver scene or with the two of them in their apartment. He sincerely hoped it was the former. "I mean, when he was with me, he was really _happy_. I bet he never feels like that with _her_. It's just terrible that he's letting her do this to him! I can't believe she thinks she has the right! It just makes me so angry...! If only I could find her, I'd tell her what I think of her-"

"Zangulus, just let it go." Vrumugun turned a page in his book more for show then for anything else, resentment growing in him deeply for Gourry for being just so perfect, to have captured Zangulus' interest so quickly. He hated it when Zangulus did this, he hated these little fleeting romances with their promises and forevers and tearful goodbyes, if there even was one. He hated the fact that Zangulus just had so many of them when he knew he was better then that.

_Your Gourry can not be perfect if he has taken up with someone like Lina._

Vrumugun kept his bitter thoughts to himself, although something did escape his lips. "Besides, the odds are against you ever seeing him again."

He was surprised at himself for actually digging open that wound so quickly and efficiently, but at the moment he could rationalize it with how he was acting. Zangulus stared at him with open annoyance and answered with just as obvious sarcasm. "Well gee, that makes me feel a lot better."

A thousand vicious responses quickly cycled through Vrumugun's mind, although he said nothing. Vrumugun returned his gaze back to his book, striving to keep his emotions under his careful lock. "Just let it go."

"I can't just 'let it go'!" Zangulus stood, anger entering his voice. He crossed his arms angrily, staring down at Vrumugun with a look of self-righteous indignation. Whatever results Zangulus had expected with perfoming the action, it probably wasn't Vrumugun's angry, quiet stare. "There's this great guy out there in this horrible relationship! I can't just 'let it go' when he's out there suffering at her hands!" Zangulus flopped back onto the couch in an angry motion, his arms still crossed. "It's just sickening! I can't just watch people _hurt_ like that! To be in that kind of relationship! He needs attention, he needs stability, he needs someone-"

Vrumugun's efforts to keep his emotions under control failed after several eye twitches. He stood in one swift motion, surprising Zangulus into wide-eyed silence. He threw his book down on the couch angrily, his eyes narrowed.

"Well I am sure that after you _magically_ solve _all_ his problems, you will live _happily ever after_."

With that, Vrumugun strode angrily to his room, slamming the door behind him, secretly pleased at the completely shocked expression that had come over Zangulus' face. He was unable, as it were, to witness the aftermath, which consisted of Zangulus crossing his arms and darkly muttering to himself "I hate it when he does this."

~~~

"Where're you going?"

Vrumugun glanced over at where Zangulus was working at the computer, unable to hide his distaste. It had been at least an hour since he had stormed out of the room, and neither of them made any effort to speak to the other, evidently harboring their own hurt feelings and opinions from the argument.

_Why would you care? Does I matter to you? If I was out looking for perfect Gourry, then you would be interested. Then you would really want to know._

Instead of saying several things that came into his mind, he said nothing, his hands firmly ensconced in the front pouch of his sweater, toying with his keys. He continued walking towards the door, trying to keep his eyes forward and his face impassive, although at several points both anger and hurt managed to flicker across him.

He stopped abruptly as he felt Zangulus grab his upper arm, both pulling one of his arms free of the pouch and halting his progress. He turned on him, finding that Zangulus was probably just as angry at him as it was vice versa. He glared at him, pulling his arm free, although Zangulus did not move from where he was standing.

"At least tell me where you're going, for Christ's sake."

Vrumugun moved towards the doorknob for a moment, not sure of whether to keep silent or not, but finally matched eyes with him, glaring for a precious moment, his quiet voice underscored with deep anger.

"Out."

He opened the door, not sure of whether Zangulus would follow or not, but found that the door closed behind him easily. He walked towards his car, still feeling deeply upset as he started up and began to drive, not exactly sure of where he was going. 


	4. Brisk & Vinylgroover Checkin' da Cutz

Although there were several clubs present that Vrumugun was familiar with, they would not be open at this time of day. However, there were a few other places that he knew where some of his friends hung out during the day, and that was eventually where he decided he would go.

He just needed some time to cool off, that was all. He tried to convince himself of this several times, his rational mind going over several arguments he had had with Zangulus in the past, where in each situation he had felt this way and believed that their precarious friendship would disappear, only to make up later and have the entire thing forgotten. Despite how logical this was, it was impossible for him to believe at the moment, and he fully expected when he went back to the apartment to find all his belongings thrown out in front of the door.

Thoughts along this line depressed him and by the time he finally made it into Flagoon, a local cafe, it was easy to tell, by anyone who knew him, exactly what happened.

Vrumugun didn't even bother glancing over whoever was there to see if he recognized anyone, instead heading for a seat in the corner and hunching over the table, resting his chin on his arm and his other arm on top of his head. Despite his best efforts, he sighed softly and proceeded to stare blankly at the empty seat across from him.

It only took a few minutes for someone to approach him. The sound of the soft, quiet calm voice that matched his own in many ways was immediately identifiable, although this was not enough to get Vrumugun to move.

"Mind if I sit here?"

Vrumugun waved his hand slightly from it's perch on top of his head, and a familiar blue-skinned figure slid and occupied the seat in front of him, blocking his vision and causing him to muster the energy to at least sit up correctly, propping himself up on his elbows.

"You and Zangulus have been fighting again, haven't you?" Zelgadis correctly assessed the situation quickly, resting his azure blue arms across the table, a slight clicking sound arising from the dark stones that littered his skin.

As it was, no one was quite sure exactly what was wrong with Zelgadis or what had caused his peculiar but, as he had assured everyone several times, very uncontagious disorder, but it was clear that it was not debilitating and he was not at all happy with it. Then again, Vrumugun knew all too well self-hatred, and therefore felt a sort of kinship with Zelgadis in that aspect, although this was only one of many ways he felt connected to him.

The two of them had met on the rave scene, ironically enough, where Zelgadis' bizarre appearance was barely noticed and actually complimented at times. It was enough to keep him there, despite his naturally quiet nature, and more then enough to capture both Vrumugun and Zangulus' interest. 

Technically he was friends with them both, although Zangulus' boisterous nature sometimes proved irritating to Zelgadis. His personality meshed much more easily with Vrumugun, their interests overlapping repeatedly and even their manner of speech and tone being similiar.

Normally Zelgadis would have covered his arms from sight, as he was extremely self-conscious, but apparently today he was feeling more confident then usual, and was wearing a light cream-colored shirt, which contrasted sharply both with his blue skin and his equally peculiar, stiff lavender hair. 

In terms, his hair was not that peculiar considering the proliferation of hair dyes, but the sheer extremes of blue and purple was enough to catch the eye of almost anyone immediately. 

Ironic as how much Zelgadis truly hated attention of any kind.

At the moment he looked somewhat concerned, although it was often hard to tell considering the one solid bang of hair that perpetually covered his eye. However, Vrumugun was an expert at being able to read one eye, as Zangulus' hairstyle followed much the same way. He looked at Zelgadis in a tired way, not exactly sure of how to explain what happened satisfactorily, before turning his attention back down to the table.

"I do not know...perhaps I expect too much from him..."

"Well, what did he say?" Zelgadis leaned forward on his arms. Vrumugun threaded some of his limp hair through his fingers idly.

"Not so much what he said as what he did..." Vrumugun sighed deeply. He could feel his face already taking on the emotionless look it always got when he was in distress. He paused for a moment. 

"Do you know a 'Gourry'?"

"Huh?" Zelgadis tilted his head slightly to one side for a moment, regarding the question before shrugging. "Gabriev? Sure. Why?"

Vrumugun let himself slide back down the table until he was resting on his arms again. "Zangulus does..."

Zelgadis was silent for a while, waiting for Vrumugun to continue, which he didn't. He finally decided to try and prompt further information from him. "...Well?"

"It sounds so foolish when I think about it...it was such a little thing and now this entire ordeal has built up out of it..." Vrumugun mumbled to himself, barely audibly.

"What happened?"

He paused, toying with a salt shaker before deciding on what to say. "He went to go dance with him..."

"Wait, Gourry was at a _rave_?" Zelgadis sounded very disbelieving, but then rethought his statement. "And Zangulus went to _dance_ with him?" He cursed under his breath softly for a moment. "Lina's not going to be happy..."

"I have heard about Lina, believe me..." A tone of bitterness snuck into his voice against his will. "I have heard all about Gourry as well, how perfect he is..." Remembering how Zelgadis knew Gourry, he decided further explaining how he currently felt about him would not be wise. "How he just could not help it, going to dance with him...sometimes I feel..." He paused, not sure of how to phrase what he wanted to say without it coming out wrong. "Expendable I guess..."

He felt cold stone, even through his sweater, and looked up at Zelgadis, who had took hold of his forearm. "I think you're right."

Vrumugun regarded him silently. Zelgadis let go and leaned back, crossing his arms.

"You're both making a big deal out of nothing."

Vrumugun sighed and began toying with the salt shaker again. "That is what I thought..."

"You just got to get this whole thing out of the way already. It shouldn't have had this much effect at all. You guys are way too paranoid."

Vrumugun made a soft affirmatory noise, tilting the salt shaker back and forth and pulling it back before it spilt.

"You know what would solve your problem?" A voice from behind him startled him enough as to lose his control over the shaker, causing it to fall on the table. The malicious playfulness behind the deliberate calm and grace of the words always slightly put him on edge, and he could already see Zelgadis across from him tensing, his eyes half-closed in annoyance.

"Dare I ask?"

"We should all have sex! Right now!"

By this time the two of them were so used to this kind of statement that it no longer held any kind of surprise or threat. Within seconds a second form slid over the back of Vrumugun's seat, taking an easy place at the table beside him, leaning his chin on his elegantly folded hands. His thin body was covered with a dark blue shirt, this one with the words "We all have to make sacrifices in life. Mine are to the dark gods of the underworld." written across the front. Occasional shiny strands of deep purple managed to break free from his peculiarily careful, meticulous hairstyle, although they fell back into place eerily a short time afterwards. He was smiling at them both disarmingly, although this was expected; Xellos was always smiling.

"We're trying to have a serious discussion, Xellos." Zelgadis added something darkly under his breath at the end of the sentence. Xellos just continued smiling as if he hadn't heard it, although there was no possibility of that.

To say that Xellos and Zelgadis had a love-hate relationship would have been too literal and far too broad. Zelgadis did, very much so in fact, hate Xellos, while Xellos seemed to adore him. To be more specific, adore making him miserable by pretending to adore him. It was fairly widely known that Xellos seemed to enjoy causing people pain in various ways and he was a master at the skill, which was why he was usually avoided by the general populace. However, as a result of this, he had gotten increasingly subtle in manipulating others and often toyed with them in ways that were hard to divine, sometimes double or even triple layering his motives.

Not to mention he never answered any questions directly. 

In truth, he made Vrumugun somewhat uncomfortable because, although usually Xellos was a friend in the loosest sense and did often have good advice, he also would make comments or say things deliberatly intended to embarass or provoke him, and that he did not enjoy or appreciate at all. Of course, trying to explain this to Xellos was completely useless, as his ability to hurt others in subtle, difficult-to-pinpoint ways was just as effective as his complete inability to understand the ramifications of what he was doing. 

To say that he was soulless would not be entirely accurate. Xellos merely did what was in his best interests at all times and if it involved others in some way, he would incorporate them as well. This often made Vrumugun wonder what possible use he could ever be to him, as that was the only reason he could think of for why Xellos would continue to speak with and be "friends" with him.

Zangulus was not very fond of Xellos and made that clear often, although the only thing this seemed to do was provoke Xellos to even worse pranks or embarassing comments, often about Vrumugun and their relationship. Although Zangulus and Vrumugun were comfortable speaking with others about being friends, Xellos was able to pick out just the right words, adjectives, metaphors, and innuendo to make either of them feel hideously uncomfortable or in some cases blush terribly. In this way they feared him, but although Xellos enjoyed toying with other people and saying such ribald things out of seemingly nowhere, Vrumugun sincerely doubted that he would ever actually hurt him or try to force himself on him. He was almost positive that it was all for show.

Almost positive.

Zelgadis was looking increasingly upset as Xellos began inching over to him, his efforts to move away only prompting Xellos continuing to move closer to him, and, finally ending the game, he stood, moving next to Vrumugun and placing his hand on his shoulder.

"Look, I know you're both really proud and hate to be wrong. But someone's got to apologize to get this whole stupid thing out of the way, and you know it's got to be you. I'll see you later, okay?"

Vrumugun nodded slightly, sighing to himself as Zelgadis tried to move away, only to find himself detained.

"GOD#$^# IT XELLOS STOP HUMPING MY LEG!"

This scene had transpired many times and Vrumugun didn't even have to look over to know that Zelgadis had already fended Xellos off in a particularly violent way.

"Ow! Ow! You always punch the one you love! OW!"

He could hear Zelgadis cursing all the way out of the restaurant as Xellos slid back into the booth directly beside Vrumugun, imitating his position, although not his expression. "That went well, don't you think? I think he's coming around."

Vrumugun shook his head, not even able to smile slightly at him. He sighed again.

"Aww, what's wrong?" Xellos poked Vrumugun in the cheek, causing him to back away involuntarily before resuming his previous position. "Is Vru-chan all jealous that Zangy likes someone else?"

"Just leave me alone..." Vrumugun buried his head in his arms to try and block Xellos out, although he could feel him playing with some free strands of his hair. "I really do not need this now..."

"You two are the most dysfunctional couple I know!" The hidden joy in Xellos' voice bothered him. 

"We are not a couple." Vrumugun mumbled uselessly, but Xellos continued, as he expected, as if he had not even heard him.

"So many sparks all underneath the surface! Pzow!" He emphasized his word by tugging slightly on the strand of hair he was playing with. "All you guys need to argue is some little thing and boom!" Another tug. "You're at eachother's throats. The sexual tension...! You could cut it with a knife!"

Vrumugun was trying very hard to block Xellos out, but eventually could not even do that. He turned his head slightly so he could see him, prompting a wave, and sighed deeply. Xellos usually stopped tormenting him this way if he played along.

"Sometimes I wish he would consider my feelings once in a while..."

He could feel his thin fingers patting his back, his voice taking on a mock conciliatory tone. "We all feel that way, don't we? Don't worry, a little argument won't break you two up, you'll get back together somehow."

That was as close to a reassurance as you could often get out of Xellos, and Vrumugun sighed deeply again.

"He is not going to be happy when I come home...I did not even tell him where I was going..."

"I'm not going to see you with horrible bruises and black eyes and swollen cut lips, am I?" Xellos somehow managed to dig his hand underneath Vrumugun's chin enough to raise his face to look at him. "I couldn't bear to see that pretty face all torn up!"

Vrumugun this time mustered enough anger to glare at him unhappily. "Do not toy with me that way."

Xellos shrugged playfully, as he often did when everyone considered him having gone too far. He knew that touching on Vrumugun's physical appearance was dangerous, even more so then the issue of Zangulus, and he rarely probed that nerve unless he felt particularly malicious. He leaned back casually. 

"Don't worry, I don't think it'll be that bad anyway. He'll probably be glad you came back in one piece! Hanging out with ruffians such as myself. It's truly a miracle."

Vrumugun made a soft scoffing noise under his breath and returned to his previous position with his head resting on his arms. Despite himself, he couldn't help but notice that Xellos managed to get the most emotion out of him, even though he was trying hard not to let him do so. He hated the fact that Xellos could manipulate him this way, when often even _he_ couldn't control how much emotion he expressed.

"Personally, I think you guys just need some time off from eachother. You know, meet other people and all that." Xellos stretched suggestively and threw his arm around Vrumugun's shoulders. Vrumugun knew he was just toying with him here, as he was very rarely serious about being attracted to anyone, and just disregarded the physical contact. "You should stay at my place for a while."

Vrumugun didn't move for a few moments, processing what Xellos had just said, before he finally sat up rather quickly, shedding Xellos' arm in the process, looking at him with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "You cannot be serious."

"Of course I am!" Xellos put a hand on his chest and held up his hand in some bizarre parody of a Boy Scout promise. "I'm your friend, right?"

Vrumugun returned his gaze to the table, remembering Zangulus' angry face as he left, the expression he had, the grip he had on his arm...more then that, remembering what he had been talking about, all he could think about...Gourry..._Gourry_....

While he was thinking, Xellos had leaned in quite close to him and said, in an extremely frightening voice, "You only miss things when they're gone."

Vrumugun stared at him, and Xellos smiled again, although this had a distinctly evil tinge to it. He eventually again returned his gaze downwards, this time staring at his fingers. He didn't want to make Zangulus worry, but something inside him almost told him that he deserved it. 

This was extremely confusing.

"I do not know..."

Again he could feel Xellos' presence near him. "Come on, what's the worst that could happen? Besides, if he's going to be angry at you for being away, you might as well be properly _away_, right?"

"Maybe I should call..."

"No no no." Xellos grabbed the edge of Vrumugun's sweater before he even considered standing. He smiled and held a finger up. "It's better this way. It'll be a _secret_."

Vrumugun knew Xellos loved secrets.

~~~

Vrumugun glanced at his passenger as they waited at the red light. Although they had originally met Xellos at the rave scene, he felt uncomfortable turning on his music, fearing rejection. He knew that the music that he so loved was detested by many other people, just as he disliked a great deal of music that seemed to be quite popular. Arguing was useless and pointless and in the end only emotionally and logically frustrating, so he just refused to bring up the issue at all. He looked so normal, so nondescript, that it was easy for him to completely hide his love of techno and all it's variations and pass off for liking any kind of music available, particularly the kind that the person he was talking to enjoyed. Even though he knew Xellos must have liked the music, he still wasn't sure if he'd like _his_ choices from the vast ocean of electronica and therefore didn't want to bring it up.

However, Xellos was an expert at disconcerting other people, and he did this by humming. More specifically, he hummed all the songs that Vrumugun had on his tape, which remained outside the player. 

Although one may have thought this would have been encouraging (not too mention somewhat inexplicable), this only made it more awkward for him to turn on the music. Why hadn't he turned it on before? More importantly, how did Xellos even know the songs at all? He had never ridden in this car, much less showed any interest in any of Vrumugun's, or Zangulus' for that matter, music. It was extremely confusing and awkward, and he was almost positive that Xellos was quite aware of what effect this was having on him.

That wasn't exactly why he looked at Xellos, who currently had his feet propped up against the dashboard despite Vrumugun repeated requests for him to stop doing that, and his arms behind his head, looking perfectly at ease.

"Why am _I_ driving you to _your_ house?"

Xellos was moving one foot along with the music that should have been playing, humming softly to himself. Hearing the question, he turned at Vrumugun and nodded once with his usual smile as if that was an answer.

Vrumugun sighed softly. "Do you even _have_ a car?"

Xellos seemed to be completely ignoring him, bobbing his head back and forth and humming once again. He continued to bob back and forth for a while before, abruptly, turning to Vrumugun and pointing directly at him.

"That..."

Vrumugun rolled his eyes as he knew the rest of the statement before he even finished.

"Is a secret."

It was the only thing you could predict from Xellos.

He sighed heavily as the light turned green, watching from the corner of his eye as Xellos settled back into his previous position easily, still humming eerily. He even managed to handle the breaks and interactions between songs without missing a single beat, and he did not continue from where he had left off. His humming picked up as if the song had progressed without him even giving it vocal presence, and it was beginning to slightly creep Vrumugun out. Maybe he had the same mix CD that he had...

Xellos, without warning, fairly jumped out of his seat and proceeded to nearly crack the windshield with the force he exerted to jab his finger into the glass to point at a turn that was more then several blocks away. In the midst of Vrumugun trying to keep control of the car despite being scared half to death, Xellos sang in a strange, sing-song chant that sounded almost like the song he had been humming previously backwards. 

"That way! Turn there!"

Rolling his eyes and trying to act as if he had not been surprised whatsoever, Vrumugun followed the overtly early directions, turning down the street obediantly. Xellos showed no sign of even realizing they were heading down the street he had indicated, continuing with his humming where he had left off.

"I take it this is the way to your house?"

Xellos acted as if he hadn't heard just long enough to prompt Vrumugun to almost ask again before cutting him off, a mischevious smile now seeming to take a permanent place on his face. "No."

Pause.

"_No_?" Before he could muster any kind of emotion or any kind of response to what Xellos had said, the purple-haired man cut him off once again.

"Actually yes." Xellos turned and smiled at him. "You make it too easy for me, Vru-chan."

"Do not call me that." Whether or not he would have been as annoyed at Xellos if they really _hadn't_ been heading for his house was debatable. He sighed again under his breath.

Without warning Xellos grabbed Vrumugun's arm, calling out in an overly exaggerated and dramatic manner, "STOP HERE!".

Startled and almost frightened, Vrumugun automatically complied, veering off to the side of the road and stopping the car with such a jerk it nearly pulled the two of them out of their seats.

In the silence that followed, he struggled to regain his breath before turning slowly to look at Xellos, who was smiling and leaning back in his seat lazily. Vrumugun's previous annoyance was now swiftly metamorphosizing into anger and frustration, and he could barely control his emotions at the thought that this was the second time that he had been fooled this way.

"I cannot_ believe _you..."

Xellos opened his door and stepped out, shutting it behind him almost as if giving himself a sheild. He leaned against the car and pointed at him through the glass, smiling in a particularly evil way. 

"Oh, I can tell this weekend is going to be _lots_ of fun." 


End file.
